Eight ways to say 'I love you'
by Lila B
Summary: Short little drabbles inspired by the poem 'Eight ways to say I love you' Involves stories of Dimitri facing the challenges of loving a passionate, and fierce woman like Rose.


**I got this idea to write short little drabbles from this poem, _Eight ways to say 'I love you'_, I found online. I wasn't able to find the original so if you happen to know who actually came up with this thing, please let me know so I can credit them properly. It's really early in the morning, and my 14 hour shift begins soon, so it's really a quick and dirty fluff thing I wanted to share with you all. I hope to have the other seven up along with this one soon, and will be picking up on Collections once the contract is up. Please feel free to message me, or write a review, saying if you liked it or not. Third person is not my forte but something I really wanted to try.**

**~ Lila B**

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_**One: Spit it into her voice mail, a little slurred and sounding like the shot of whiskey you downed for courage. Feel ashamed as you do walking into work in last night's clothes. Wake up cringing for days, waiting for her to mention it.**_

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She smelt like lilacs.

Dimitri didn't understand how it began; how this girl managed to get under his skin. It just didn't make sense. Rose drove him crazy for a long, long, time. At first, it was sheer annoyance of her constant defiance and disrespect, but lately Dimitri has caught himself noticing certain things. Like how in the early morning practices, Rose always misses a strand of hair at the nape of her neck when she tied her ponytail. Or how while he corrected her stances, her brow furrowed ever so slightly as she focused.

She liked Skittles. Especially the green ones.

He didn't even know how he knew that. He just did.

Dimitri sighed, and leaned back against the bar stool, tipping it at a dangerous angle. The bartender eyed him curiously as if waiting to see if he'd fall over, but Dimitri merely jerked forwards letting all fours legs of the stool return to the floor.

"Another," he slurred, accent thick, while gesturing to the line of shot glasses in front of him, all empty.

The bartender walked in front of him, and braced his hands against the bar. "I'm cutting you off, Buddy. It's for your own good."

Dimitri scowled, eyes narrowing at the man, but got up from the stool and reached around his back for his wallet. Tossing a few bills next to the glasses, he muttered a drunken Russian curse, before leaving the bar.

Rose likes ketchup on her tacos.

Stumbling outside the bar doors, Dimitri fumbled for the pack of cigarettes hidden inside his jacket and lighter as he walked in the vague direction of his motel room. He didn't normally smoke, or drink for that matter, but after receiving a disturbing call from his sister, Karolina, that Serge Vasiliev had been attacked and killed by Strigoi warranted for some leeway. Serge had been a good friend of his back when he still lived in Russia. Though Dimitri hadn't spoken to him since the summer through his last letter, he was shocked and sad to hear of his passing. He had to stop to light his cigarette properly before pulling a long drag.

Rose wasn't keen on her math class. Hated it, in fact.

Dimitri started walking again, the taste of nicotine on his tongue.

She called him Comrade when they were alone. And sometimes even when they were not.

He blew out a long stream of smoke through his nose, and watched as it lifted high into the early morning darkness. It was too cloudy to see the stars tonight, but Dimitri didn't care.

She smelt like lilacs.

Somehow his phone was pressed to his ear, ringing constantly. Idly Dimitri wondered if she was going to pick up, maybe staying up late to study or to be with friends.

"This is Rose, leave a message." Her voicemail greeted him.

"I love you," Dimitri managed to say drunkenly around his cigarette. "Roza, I love you so much." 

He felt like death warmed over the next morning once he sobered up. Somehow Dimitri managed to wake up early enough to drive back to campus, drag his hung-over self into the shower and was ready to begin practice with Rose half an hour later. He found her already in the gym, stretching out her hamstrings on the mats with the missed strand of hair curling between her shoulder blades unnoticed. She turned at the sound of him entering, and offered a cocky smile.

"Morning, Comrade. Have fun last night?"

He scrubbed his face roughly. It was hard for Dimitri not to growl his reply. "Thank you, yes."

Rose snorted, tossing her head back as she stood to stretch out her calves next. "You know, I've never heard you speak Russian other than swears, Dimitri." She mused, "It's too bad I don't know any."

That made him pause. "I spoke Russian?"

Rose burst out laughing. "Jesus, how hammered did you get?"

"Go run your laps." He ordered, growling this time.

That only made Rose laugh more and offer a mock salute before brushing past him to head outside.

She smelt like lilacs.

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**So I kinda have this headcanon that Dimitri only smokes and drinks on special occasions. A wee bit on the OOC side of things, I know, but hey, it's my headcanon. **

**I hope you enjoyed it! Please R&R **


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